


Rings

by Matril



Category: The Autobiography of Jane Eyre
Genre: Angst, Backstory, But here I am instead, F/M, He hasn't even been around for over a month, I should really try to write happy/recovering Jane, Why is this show giving me all these stupid Rochester feelings?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matril/pseuds/Matril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three rings, and what they symbolized for Rochester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rings

Rochester never picked out a ring for his first engagement.

He didn’t have much say in any of the details during those whirlwind months. Everything was arranged in a big rush - they wanted get it done before the pregnancy was showing too much - and his father hired a terrifyingly efficient wedding planner to run the show. She did her job so well, there was nothing left for Rochester to do other than say _Yeah, that looks great_ about each decision, after everyone else involved had already approved it.

There _was_ a ring, of course. He couldn’t remember who bought it. It was his father’s money, no doubt, but whether his fiancée had any say in the choosing of it, he had no idea. He never thought to ask, and then it hardly seemed important. 

It was appropriately expensive and showy. He remembered being half-blinded by it during the ceremony when it reflected the sunlight pouring through the massive wall-length windows.

He had no idea what happened to it when she left.

\--

He kept wearing his own wedding ring a full year after she was gone. 

At first it was out of sheer stubborn resentment. It was her bad choices that had ended things, not his. If it were up to him, their marriage never would have fallen apart.

His anger eventually dissolved into depression, which he was convinced would only go away if he could fix things. He clung to the idea that there was still hope. Taking off the ring felt like giving up. But after a while, too many people saw the ring and asked questions about his wife. It was becoming too much trouble, too much pain, to fend them off.

The day he pulled the ring off and put it away in a drawer was the same day he met a pretty girl in a bar and took her home in a drunken haze. 

After that, it was easier to bury the guilt if he kept the ring out of sight.

Later, during the long weeks of his wife’s rehab and hospital stays, he would spend hours alone in his office, poring over books on addiction and mental illness. When it was too much, he’d break out the scotch and look at the wedding ring he’d pulled from the drawer, turning it over and over in his hand. 

He got it out and looked at it every now and then over the years that followed. But he never put it back on.

\--

The second engagement ring was entirely his own doing.

He had a lot of second guessing on his way to the jewelry store. This was probably crazy. Definitely crazy. Even leaving aside the sticky issue of being, technically, still married to someone else, he wasn’t even sure how Jane felt about him. This was insanely premature.

But, as he told himself, it wasn’t like rings had an expiration date. He could keep this one tucked away as long as he needed to. He might as well grab the chance as long as he was in New York, right?

And it was becoming increasingly obvious to him that if he ever wanted a second chance at marriage, a fresh start, he wanted it to be with Jane. He was at the point where he thought about her just as often when she was absent as when she was present – more often, even. Half the reason he’d gone to New York was because home just didn’t seem bearable without her. He hadn’t felt that way about someone in a long time. 

More than that - this particular peculiar effect she had on him, he couldn’t remember ever feeling with any other woman, not his wife, not anyone. With a single look she could communicate the idea of _Come on, you should be better than that_ but at the same time, _And I know you_ can _be better; I know you’re capable of good things if you’d just start believing again._ It was irresistible. She’d started stirring hopes inside him that had lain dormant for nearly a decade.

Buoyed by that hope, he entered the store and started looking for the perfect ring.

He looked for a long time. He brushed off the salesman’s offers to help and kept searching on his own. It was probably an hour later that he gave up trying to find the perfect ring and settled for an acceptable one. He looked for another half hour and finally chose a decent piece, beautiful but not gaudy, something that could be easily refitted to Jane’s measurements once he had earned the right to ask her finger size.

On his way back to the hotel, a small print in a shop window caught his eye. It was a tree, simple and understated. It reminded him of Jane in a way he couldn’t articulate and couldn’t deny. It cost a tiny fraction of the ring’s price. He bought it without a second thought.

She left the ring behind when she went away. 

Since the print was nowhere to be found, he assumed she took that with her.


End file.
